Part 23 (2/2)

Now in dreams alone I meet her With my lowly human praise; She is sweeter and completer, And she smiles on me always; But I dare not rise and greet her as I did in early days.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

A MOTHER'S NAME.

I.

I love the sound! The sweetest under Heaven, That name of mother,--and the proudest, too.

As babes we breathe it, and with seven times seven Of youthful prayers, and blessings that accrue, We still repeat the word, with tender steven.

Dearest of friends! dear mother! what we do This side the grave, in purity of aim, Is glorified at last by thy good name.

II.

But how forlorn the word, how full of woe, When she who bears it lies beneath the clod.

In vain the orphan child would call her so,-- She comes not back: her place is up with G.o.d.

The wintry winds are wailing o'er the snow; The flowers are dead that once did grace the sod.

Ah, lose not heart! Some flowers may fade in gloom, But Hope's a plant grows brightest on the tomb!

A SONG OF SERVITUDE.

I.

This is a song of serfs that I have made, A song of sympathy for grief and joy:-- The old, the young, the lov'd and the betrayed, All, all must serve, for all must be obeyed.

II.

There are no tyrants but the serving ones, There are no servants but the ruling men.

The Captain conquers with his army's guns, But he himself is conquered by his sons.

III.

What is a parent but a daughter's slave, A son's retainer when the lad is ill?

The great Creator loves the good and brave, And makes a flower the spokesman of a grave.

IV.

The son is servant in his father's halls, The daughter is her mother's maid-of-work.

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